


When Loki Descended The Yggdrasill

by Hierophantastic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But it's there, Fluff, I am really bad at keeping my verb tenses consistent, I read Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman so now I'm an expert, Identity Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Gets A Snake Friend, Loki goes down to the roots of the Yggdrasill, Loki's Daddy Issues, Marvel characters being the reincarnations of norse myths, Oblivious Thor (Marvel), Odin cares about his kids, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Reincarnation, So sorry about that in advance, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Thor means well, and remembers his previous life, as god of chaos, as in he remembers being a dad and is now adopting people/animals who remind him of his kids, he also just has issues with his dad's previous life, i guess?, its complicated, like a lot, like miniscule amounts, no incest though, that does not mean he's a good parent, where his dad was his brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hierophantastic/pseuds/Hierophantastic
Summary: "What will be after heaven and earth and the whole world are burned? All the gods will be dead, together with the Einherjar and the whole of mankind. Didn't you say earlier that each person will live in some world throughout all ages?"-Prose Edda, Gylfaginning, chapter 52One day, a man/god/giant/liar climbs down a tree.And he remembers.
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja/Odin (Marvel), Loki & Odin (Marvel), Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you read several books and Wikipedia pages about Norse Mythology and fancy yourself an expert, so you decide to write a story about it.
> 
> Okay, I'll confess, I don't fancy myself an expert. I just love Loki, MCU or not.

The Trickster and the Seer lay, dying, on a field littered with the bodies of gods and monsters. It would seem he had lost, Loki thought.

Yes, most of the Aesir had perished. Brother Odin was gone, that brute Thor as well. Frey had fallen by Surtr’s sword. But some still lived. Thor’s children for one, and that _annoyingly perfect_ Balder who had somehow come back from the dead.

Truly, Balder couldn’t even die without finding some way to one-up him. Bastard.

Loki’s mind drifted away from Heimdall’s last words, which were mocking the chaos he had wrought and being dreadfully optimistic about this new world, despite the fact that he would not live to see it. Then again, maybe Heimdall did not need to live to see it.

No matter, Loki thought, eyes slowly closing. That world will burn too, and then there would be a next time. Next time will be different.

And it was. The next time was always different. 

-=-

Nothing can ever be completely destroyed.

The mightiest tree might be reduced to the finest ashes, and those ashes might be scattered in the wind, drowned in the sea or buried in the desert, but they will remain. The same goes for everything. Mountains to dust, civilizations to ruins, only nothing turns to nothing. Even memories linger, like ash beneath the sand.

A man climbs down a tree.

It is not an ordinary tree and he is not an ordinary man. This tree binds worlds together, as any other would hold leaves. The Yggdrasill has its roots in a fallen ash tree, bark burnt by Ragnarok, marking it as its predecessor.

The man is only a man in the sense that he is male. It is true that he appears human, but appearances are nothing to a changeling. Even the skin he currently wears is a lie, although not one of his making.

One clear fact is that his steps are unsure. The branches that he clambers down are untouched by anything other than the Nidhogg, a creature he would much rather avoid than meet despite the burning curiosity that always houses in his spirit.

Where in another life Odin, seeking wisdom, hung himself from the branches of the World Tree, in this one Loki, son now instead of brother, is using the tree as a ladder down to what once was. 

His foot finds purchase on the lowest of branches. He binds a rope tightly around his waist and the branch.

He jumps.

The fall was longer than he expected, but the enchanted rope did not snap. Instead, it stretched, like elastic, so that he would not break his bones due to the unnatural gravity in this space between worlds.

The burned ash is just within his reach, the last remainder of a world ravaged in fire. Memories preserved. It lies in a pool of water, and Loki can see three old women using its water to water the Yggdrasill. He ignores them, only focusing on his goal.

He stretches out his arm, as wide as possible, fingers tingling with the lingering heat of flames that died millennia ago-

And he remembers.

-=-

Loki had been a boy when he first heard the tale.

He was laughing, a sound full of joy. There were traces of apple-pie on his cheeks. His mother was smiling from the sidelines as he chased the two ravens. Eventually, he leapt and caught one by the tailfeathers. Muninn played along and snuggled closer to the boy, not wanting to harm his master's son.

"Look, Father," he had said, "I caught your memory! Now you don't remember anything!"

And Odin had chuckled, shaking his head in amusement at his son. Loki's smile turned mischievous. "Father, can I have a slice of pie? I haven't had anything yet, while Thor already ate two!" Thor, who had been busy shoving his second slice into his mouth stopped chewing for a moment to proclaim Loki a liar, spewing out crumbs. Odin laughed.

"Of course! It is only fair if Thor had two, you can too." Loki was appeased, before he frowned and glanced at the raven in his arms.

"Hold on, you remember? Does that mean Muninn isn't really your memory?"

Odin shook his head. "No, my memories are all up here, same as yours," he answered, tapping his temple. Freya spoke up then.

"They do say, however, that at the roots of the Yggdrasill, in the middle of Urdr's Well, its predecessor lies. And if you were to go down there it could show you all the knowledge in the universe. Including a lying son's memories, so that we will always know when you try to deceive us," she joked.

Loki smiled sweetly. "I would _never_ attempt to deceive you, Mother," he lied blatantly. He refocused on Father, who was often hailed as one of the wisest people in the realms. "Did you do that, Father? Climb down to the roots? Is that how you knew I already had eaten a slice?"

The King shook his head, face grave. "No. The Nidhogg dwells down there. Don't listen to your mother, such journeys are much too dangerous for a young child such as yourself." Thor perked up at the word 'dangerous' and his father fixed him with a stern glare. "That goes for you too, Thor." Thor slumped.

Loki nodded dutifully and had filed this information away somewhere in the many corners of his mind, ready to be recalled many years later, when suspicions and fears would haunt his dreams.

-=-

Loki was a trickster and a liar, yes, but he was a scholar too. He liked knowing things, knowing truths, and not only so he could use them to spin his infamous half-truths. Here are some of the things Loki knows.

Odin has two children.

Loki is one of them.

He is a prince.

And here is something Loki started to suspect after years of honing his instinct for truth and his eye for lies. He eventually sought out a truthsayer, told her of his problem, and she had validated his suspicions with the following words;

"One of the above is a lie."

It shouldn't be possible. If one thing was a lie, it all should be. Unless Odin has some bastards out there, which was entirely possible now he thought about it, or he was an adopted prince, which was much less likely. The thought of Thor being adopted was too ridiculous to even think about.

Loki couldn't be an Odinson without being a prince. Loki couldn't _not_ be an Odinson without Odin having another child somewhere, and without being a prince. But if he wasn't a prince, that automatically meant he couldn't be the son of Odin.

It didn't make sense.

Loki does not like being lied to, nor does he like not knowing things. While the trickster in him could appreciate a good deception, the scholar despises the twisting of the truth. Unless he himself is doing the twisting, of course. There was, however, something Loki did know to be truth. Namely, a burned ash-tree at the roots of Yggdrasill which was said to hold the knowledge of everything in the Nine Realms. So there he sought out the truth about himself. 

And instead he found memories.

-=-

_Chaos-bringer,_ the fire whispers, _do you know your purpose?_

_Should we tell you?_

“Yes,” Loki answers. And he feels rage, a fury unlike anything he had ever known, and he knows it was only a minor detail of what the ash-tree’s fire could tell him. It is not the truth he came to find.

It was _his_ truth, however, a long time ago.

_Do you still seek to know? And what?_

“Everything,” he replies, hoarsely. “Tell me everything.”

-=-

After the initial wave of _fire death rage pain children my children **hate**_ the memories started to trickle slowly, like a leaking sink, instead of the waterfall it was at first. Some memories came up during the most random circumstances. One moment he would be getting ready for bed, the next he would be wondering where his favourite flute was, only to remember he never owned a flute, and furthermore did not know how to play one. 

Or used to not know. The talents of his previous life seemed to return to him as well, which was at least one unexpected boon. Though that doesn't ease his fear that one day he might forget who he _is_ and remember only who he _was_. More of the opposite.

What does ease that fear, if only minutely, was that other memories had to be coaxed out. Sometimes accidentally.

Fandral had probably thought it would be a funny joke. Thor would laugh because he always laughs, Thor’s friends would laugh because they were Thor’s friends, and Loki would laugh because he did not want to seem weak and unable to take a jest at his expense. And so Fandral would have the entire hall laughing, because many people considered themselves Thor's friends. Then again, Thor considered many people his friend as well. That's the thing about being popular, Loki supposed. He wouldn't know.

“Look, Loki,” Fandral had said, “I found you a friend. His tongue is just as forked as yours.”

In his hands he held a live serpent, and quite a large specimen. It was perhaps twice the length of his arm.

Predictably, the other warriors laughed. Thor’s booming laugh was louder than anybody else’s, and he clapped his younger brother ( _uncle,_ a voice in his head whispered. But that voice called Loki many things, most of which _had_ to be a lie, so it went ignored once again) on his back, because _‘It was just a joke, brother’._

The serpent had hissed and a drop of acid fell from its mouth, leaving a scorch mark on the wooden table. Loki flinched, sloshing the wine in his cup over its edge and into his clothes.

_A cave, in which was a rock, upon which was a man bound by the entrails of his children. His beautiful, loyal,_ good, _Sygin crying, hands red with burns. Screaming. Someone was screaming himself hoarse._

_A snake's hiss._

When the memory receded, Loki’s throat was dry. The memory of excruciating pain lingers a little longer, but he managed to keep the screams inside. Quietly, he nodded at Fandral and left (fled) the crowded hall.

But as he did so, there was another memory stewing in his mind. One that had returned much sooner.

_Three children. A wolf-cub, teeth bared in joy. A half-corpse, looking longingly at the pretty flowers in her mother’s hair._

_A snake, intelligent red eyes observing his father, who was weaving magic words together like a professional poet._

-=-

“Excuse me, Fandral?”

The blond warrior looks up. He had obviously not expected to be addressed by the less-loved prince. He did not even have the grace to stand up.

“Prince Loki?” he says, further showing his lack of manners. Then, to make matters worse, he apologises.

“Truly, had I known you have such a fear of snakes-”

Loki makes a sharp gesture with his hand to cut the other man off. “Actually, I wanted to ask you what you did with the creature.”

Fandral raises an eyebrow. “Well, Thor said he would smite any creature that dared to instill such fear in his little brother-” Loki’s expression sours even more at his choice of words- “and took it to the training grounds not too long ago. If you go now you might see someone strike the killing blow.”

Loki does not thank Fandral for telling him before he left for the training grounds.

-=-

"Brother!"

Thor's booming voice halts the commotion in the courtyard. A dozen stares fix themselves on the approaching Loki, who had to do his best not to cower from the attention. The men had formed a ring around the snake, Loki could see as he neared. A few are standing further away, suspicious-looking black marks on their melted armor, and Loki has to suppress a smile.

"Brother," Loki greets Thor in return. "I-" But Thor, like he was wont to do, did not let him speak. Or rather, did not stop speaking himself.

"Have you come to face your fears yourself? Brother, I am so proud of you!" Thor offers him a sword and an encouraging look, together with his words. Loki opens his mouth to correct the blonde oaf, but thinks better of it and sighs, accepting the blade. He does not need to explain himself. He does not _know_ how to explain himself.

As he takes the sword he frowns briefly at the weapon. He is not unskilled with it, but he much prefers the light weight of his daggers to this thing. Still, he did not miss the new looks of respect the other warriors gave him. A small part of him still yearns for more, but he quashes it. They would never fully accept him as long as he wielded his Seidr, and Loki knew he could never give that up. 

He does not need it that much anyway. Thor's smile hadn't changed between Loki arriving and Loki accepting the blade. His brother might not always understand, but at least he loves him. To Thor, Loki would always be his brother first.

( _Always,_ the voice whispered. _Even if he knew what you_ really _are?_ )

No proof, Loki reminds himself. That he once was one thing did not mean anything now. 

( _Would it really be so bad, though? Angrboda wasn't a mons-_ )

"Brother?" Loki's emerald eyes shoot up, meeting Thor's saphire ones. They were questioning, but sympathetic. He was probably ascribing Loki's silence to his supposed fear of snakes.

"I'm fine," Loki says, shaking his thoughts away. He turns to the ring, and the warriors part before him.

Inside, the snake lay waiting. Looking at it now, sitting in the middle of the ring like a coiled spring, it gives off the impression of a caged animal. Which it was, Loki supposed, inspecting the circle of sharp steel that surrounded it, ready to cut it down if it tried to run. The creature's red eyes follow the glinting steel of his own blade. They hold an intelligence unexpected of a snake. Acid drips from its fangs. It wasn't so much the sight of the snake or the acid that had unsettled Loki so before, but more the intensity of the memory. He could handle it now.

The snake winds up its body, ready to attack.

Loki drops the blade.

"Brother-" he can hear Thor say, and he isn't sure if it was in warning or alarm. Probably both.

"Quiet, Thor," he snaps back.

The snake had stopped moving when Loki dropped the weapon. He crouches and, slowly, crept closer and closer, keeping his body low to the ground so he didn't loom over the animal. The snake uncoils his body, rising up and up, until he was higher than Loki's crouched form. Loki stops walking.

It is then that the snake hisses, and the father of monsters hisses back.

While Fenrir and Jormungandr were capable of human speech, they sometimes preferred their own animalistic tongue. Loki, the dutiful father that he was, learned with them.

A silence falls over the warriors who were spectating, their murmurs quieting as they saw the dark-haired prince talk with a serpent. "Maybe there was more truth to Fandral's words than we thought," one of them whispers. Thor shoots him a glare.

Meanwhile, Loki reaches out a hand, palm up. The snake regards it with its cold eyes, hesitant. It was wary, understandably so, after being used for sparring practice.

_Why should I trust you? Who are you?_ it asks.

_I am Loki,_ the snake-that-isn't-a-snake says. _I am not a warrior, unlike these men that surround you. Trust me, I will care for you._ After a long moment the snake slithers forward and, at Loki's request, curls itself around his arm and neck, until it lies draped over his shoulders.

"That's right," Loki whispers, "I think I'll call you Jormungandr. Or Jorm. Would you like that?" The snake softly bumps Loki's head with its own. Loki takes a breath, and turns, eager to make his escape without having to talk to any of the spectators.

His brother stands there.

( _That brute murdered my child, held me down with Mjolnir on his chest while needles went through my lips, murderer, MURD-_ )

Loki blinks, replacing the image of a red-haired brute of a nephew with that of a blonde oaf of a brother.

"Loki," Thor says, still smiling and oblivious to the retreating panic in his little brother's eyes. "I did not know you could speak with animals! When did you learn that?"

"Today," Loki replies indifferently. As if Thor's pride in him does not make him feel warm inside.

Thor looks stumped, before he starts cheering.

"Did you all hear that? He learned it in a day! Truly, Brother, you must be the smartest man in all of Asgard!" Thor wraps a muscled arm around his shoulders, expertly avoiding Jorm, and Loki smiles. He ignores the suspicious and wary looks the warriors give him.

As always, Thor doesn't even notice them.

-=-

_Do you wish to know your purpose?_

Yes, Loki had said, knowledge-hungry fool that he was.

_Ragnarok,_ the fire had said. _Laufeyson, God of Chaos, Bringer of Ragnarok._


	2. Susurrus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Norse mythology, the Ginnungagap is the primordial void, which at its north side had Nilfheim, which was extremely cold, and at the south side Muspelheim, which was extremely hot, and when the two met in the middle the creation of the universe began. I don't actually know if it exists in the MCU, so I just called the Void underneath the rainbow bridge that.

The voice doesn't go away, like Loki hoped. It comments on his surroundings, compares them to the memories. Sometimes, it wonders about reincarnation. It looks at Jormungandr's intelligent red eyes and wonders if that might really be the reincarnation of Loki's son, only for Loki to harshly remind himself he never _had_ a son.

It doesn't go away, but it grows quieter. Softer. It's a whisper, these days. A constant stream of quiet sentences, declaring everything about Loki's life _wrong._

The dreams don't quiet at all, however. They only seem to get worse.

-=-

Loki was a man when he heard the tale of the old ash-tree again.

The golden city of Asgard is built in the heart of the realm, with the Bifrost at it's centre. The rainbow-coloured bridge stretches out over the Ginnungagap like a needle sticking over an edge, leading to the golden observatory. Around the golden city lie several small towns and villages and a few bigger holdings. And finally, bordering the edge of the world, there are the Ironwoods.

A woman lives in the Ironwoods. She is a volva, a female seer. 

She is large, and old. She wears rags and hides her face in the shadows of a deep hood. Her home is a small shack, with three rooms. A bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room, which also functions as an entrance hall. It is in that last one that, unbeknown to Loki, the prince and the woman saw one another for the second time in their lives. The woman had inspected him with a glance, her face and eyes hidden by her hood, but Loki thought he could see a shimmer of red. Then she had beckoned him inside and offered him a bowl of soup. It _was_ near dinnertime, so he accepted.

"Volva," Loki had said. "I need to know the truth of something. Several somethings." The woman had waved her hand for him to continue. So Loki did. "Odin has two children, as you well know. I am one of them, Prince Loki. However, recently, I have begun to have... doubts." It's not as if the differences between him and the rest of his family are difficult to spot.

"Am I adopted?"

The woman eyed him, or at least Loki thought she did. He couldn't be sure, with that hood of hers. Then, she lifted a gnarled hand wrapped in cloth, and held up three fingers.

"Odin has two children." One finger down. "You are one of them." Another one down. "You are a prince." The last one down. Loki could see a flash of white teeth as she smiled at him. "One of the above is a lie." Loki waited, and waited, but the woman simply ate her soup in silence.

"Which one?" he finally asked.

"There is a burnt tree in the middle of Udr's Well, at the roots of the Yggdrasill. You will find your answers there," she replied.

"Why not tell me now?" he demanded impatiently.

The woman smiled, and this time her sharp, white teeth were clearly visible, as well as the red glint in where her eyes should be. "You wouldn't believe me."

Loki left frustrated, anxious, and already mentally preparing himself for a journey. The woman watched him leave with satisfaction.

-=-

It's the cave again. He knows it before he even opens his eyes

Loki is bound on a rock, and his magically enhanced bindings hurt in a way rope or chains never could. They hurt his heart just by existing, by having him know what was done to make them. Sigyn is quietly sobbing. When he does open his eyes, he can see the serpent suspended above him, except it looks like it's curled over wooden beams instead of the usual stone stalactites. It doesn't do much to dissuade his fears.

"This isn't real," he mutters, like a mantra. Like it would help. "This never happened, this isn't real. I'm not married, I don't have children."

_(Not in this life.)_

The snake starts hissing words, then. Usually, it would be a warning of the drops of acid, but then again, usually it would simply hiss instead of talk. _Wake up,_ it says. _Sssun'sss up. Wake up. It'sss a nightmare._

_it's a nightmare._

Loki opens his eyes. He's in his bed, tangled in his sheets and sweat on his brow. Jorm hangs from the ceiling beams, red eyes only inches away from his face, but he pulls back once Loki startles awake. The sun is already up, as he can see through the curtains. Loki wipes a hand down his face, taking a moment to gather himself, before getting ready for the day, Jorm draped around his shoulders.

_(My son,)_ the voice says, lovingly, protectively, fiercely.

It's not real, Loki thinks. It's not _me._

-=-

His father has a horse.

This is well known, because his father's horse is one of the fastest in the Nine Realms, if not _the_ fastest. Loki is in the stables now, with a snake like a scarf around his neck, and a bucket of apples in his hands. He's been giving one to all the horses, because he didn't want any to feel left out. Or, because he was trying to postpone the moment where he would do what he actually came down here to do. Namely, look at his father's horse.

His father has a horse, and he's one of the fastest in the Nine Realms, if not _the_ fastest, and he has eight legs, and his name is Sleipnir.

_A tiny foal, unable to walk without tripping over his many legs. Loki loves him, despite his violent conception, like he loves all his children. Odin loves him too, like a knight does a good mount._

Sleipnir doesn't have any unnatural intelligence, like Jorm does. Then again, even in his previous life he'd been just an extremely clever horse. That didn't stop Loki from communicating with him through use of his seidr, though. But now...

Brown eyes stare at him, as his powerful teeth munch on some hay. Then they drop down to bucket of apples, and back to Loki. Loki reaches out with a tiny string of seidr, and receives a mixture of longing, the sense of a full stomach, warmth, and overall contentment. The sorcerer inspects it all for a moment, making sure there's nothing magical or otherwise unnatural about it, but no. He seems to be happy.

Sleipnir whinnies in his face impatiently, and Loki huffs out a laugh.

"Here you go, boy," he says, giving the horse a sweet treat. He combs through his mane with his fingers and pats his neck a few times, before moving on. 

_(Be safe,_ _son,)_ the voice whispers. "He's not my son," Loki mutters, but he can't say he disagrees with the sentiment.

-=-

Loki doesn't know all his mother's handmaidens by face, but he feels like he would have remembered this one. She's a vision, truly, with clear-blue eyes and fiery red hair. More importantly, she sits in the library, in a chair dragged over to the window so she can catch the sunlight, and seems to be truly engrossed in a book. He doesn't know that many people who genuinely enjoy reading, beside himself.

He _has_ to get her name.

Determined, Loki sets Jorm on the ground. "Go catch some mice or something, I need to make a good first impression." Jorm lets out a short, offended hiss in response, as if to say, _'Do I not make a good impression?'_ and slithers away. Loki smooths out the wrinkles in his clothes, and steps forward. 

"Good day," he greets her, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. He might be the less popular brother amongst the warriors of Asgard, but the few scholars he has met respect his knowledge. 

The woman looks up and Loki just barely catches the flicker of annoyance on her face. He did interrupt her reading. But the annoyance quickly melts away into the polite smile all servants wear around royalty. "Prince Loki," she says, surprised, and rises from her seat to bow. "Can I help you?"

There's something familiar about her voice. Loki has never met her before, so pushes the thought away.

"I was just wondering what your name was. I know I've never seen you around before, because I am certain I'd remember an angel with a taste for books." Not his smoothest line, but he hasn't really been in a good state lately.

The woman seems to think so too, as Loki could swear she was physically restraining herself from rolling her eyes. "I'm new around here. I was sent from Vanaheim to be Queen Frigga's handmaiden.

"My name is Sygin," she introduces herself, and Loki feels his mouth dry up and his world crumble, shift, rearrange itself according to his split memories. It feels as if they're bleeding into each other, and he's not sure what's real anymore. He manages to snap himself out of his daze before she could notice.

"It is good to meet you, lady Sigyn," he says, the tremor in his voice carefully disguised. He tucks his hands behind his back so she won't see them shake. "What book are you reading, if I may ask?" 

Sigyn's eyebrows shoot up a little as if she hadn't expected him to ask her about that. What else did she think he was doing in the _library_ ? When she proceeds to tell him her eyes light up and Loki can tell that she enjoy's being able to talk with someone about this. Few Aesir had an interest in literature. Loki was all too aware of that.

He drags another chair over, ignores the discomfort in his chest, and spends the day with his mother's new handmaiden in the library.

-=-

_Despite having two sons with her, Loki wouldn't say he loved Sigyn the same way he did Angrboda. His relationship with Angrboda had the chance to grow naturally, from a student and a teacher to lovers. His marriage with Sigyn had been arranged, probably to keep him away from Angrboda. And though he hadn't set out to like Sigyn, they seemed to get along well with each other from the start._

_Angrboda was mystery, strength, knowledge, and passion. Sigyn was safety, kindness, loyalty, and a simpler kind of love._

-=-

When he retires to his room for the evening, Jorm is there, wrapped around his bedpost.

_Did you make a good impression?_ he hisses. Loki sighs.

"I think I did. She seemed to appreciate my company." 

_You'll have to introduce me to her next time._

Loki huffs out a laugh in answer, before getting dressed for bed. He wraps himself under his blankets, thinks back to Sigyn's smile this midday, and feels hollow. She's different, but still fundamentally the same. The curiosity, the kindness. He could tell it was there. He's befriending her again. He's got Jormungandr _again._

_(Laufeyson. You know your purpose._ )

No. No, no, _no._

It can't be happening again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are a writers lifeblood. We might not always reply, but we do read them.
> 
> Also, if I make any grammatical errors, please say so, because I feel like I'm completely screwing up the verb tenses. That's the main reason I'm saying this.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
